


I wish this could be wholesome

by roseprice612



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Jaime is a lil shit but what's new, just how I want it to end tbh, not too bloody this is pretty tame for got
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseprice612/pseuds/roseprice612
Summary: I mean really I wish this could be wholesomeEssentially just an alternate ending (how I HOPE this series ends even though we all know it wouldn't end even this happy). Cersei sets King's Landing on fire; Jaime repeats the past and flees to say his last words to some special person





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I like just posted a silm thing this same night and then said 'hey I'll post some got/asoiaf stuff soon but here I am I guess soon is very soon. I mean I guess enjoy this it came out a LOT longer than I expected and more is to come but who's complaining 
> 
> Translation: I no longer know how to spend my time wisely

There was screaming all through the city. All through the homes, the streets, in the ashes of the Sept and through the great castle. Death was upon them.

He'd been escaping her. It was a long time coming, the release into a life not manipulated by his own sister, but then again he was just dragged back in like always. She always found a way to keep him on a leash, tighter and tighter as the years went on. Her mistake was the destruction she brought and the effects it had on all those around her.

He'd thought about his next actions for days before doing it. She first told him about her plans a week before; she would burn the entire place, take advantage of Aerys' wildfire all beneath the city and finish the job he never did. The foreign bitch would have nothing to rule but a graveyard, and Cersei could slip away quietly and live her life however she wanted. Sadly, or fortunately really, she hadn't considered that Jaime was no longer so trusting of her. The pregnancy had dragged him back somewhat, but the deeper she sunk into insanity the easier it was for Jaime to climb out of his. He could see so clearly now why he needed to assassinate the Queen and end this once and for all. And that was his final plan.

He wasn't expecting to live through the ordeal, of course he wasn't. And he was fine with that. He deserved it. Kingslayer and Queenslayer, Man-Without-Honor and sister-fucker. All these titles had to mean something. He didn't mind fleeing to his grave with his mistakes stacked one on top of the other. Let the gods decide what to do with him.

And so the day of reckoning began. Even after the white walker and the pleading of a King and a Queen, Cersei refused to yield her power to the Targaeryn bitch and Stark's bastard. What kind of Queen would she be if she did? The alternate seemed the right option. The only option. Burn the city, kill the inhabitants. They were worthless. They could suffer.

Jaime couldn't let that happen. He called for a secret council with his sister. They needed to speak before the city burned. It was too late by the time Cersei showed up at his door. Screams were heard just outside the window and nothing Cersei could say would change the horror in Jaime's eyes. He pretended to be pleased at the sight of her swelling belly and grasped her in a hug.

"I don't want to leave." He murmured, breaking away and subconsciously placing his hand on his hip, where the hidden dagger resided.

"What do you mean you don't want to leave?" She narrowed her eyebrows and gestured to the city outside. "King's Landing is gone. Let us go East, across the sea. We can live peacefully there, just the three of us."

The three of us. It was all it took for Jaime to not just comply and take the easier route, to give up on his sneaky plans and façades. But this had to happen. Just the thought of it sprung tears in his eyes, thought he hastily blinked them away.

"That can't happen." He admitted. "I cannot go with you."

"So what, you wish to burn in this mess? You know that you will die, don't you? Come with me, don't be ridiculous."

Jaime stepped away as she stepped forward. His palms were clammy. His throat dry. He could feel the blood rushing in his veins and the thump in his ears. Is this what his brother felt before murdering their father? "Don't. This is enough, Cersei."

She didn't listen. Of course she didn't listen. She walked right up close to him, clearly meaning to kiss him, and Jaime found his chance. He slipped his knife from his belt and lodged it deep in his sister's womb. But something was wrong. There was a knife in him, too.

Cersei was more clever than he gave her credit for. She'd known what this meeting was about, she saw his hand touching the secret knife on his waist, and she knew he meant to murder her. But she wouldn't go out without him. She always had a knife on her, or at least some sort of sharp object. It didn't stop her from crying out and clutching her stomach, and it certainly didn't stop her from pulling out another knife to finish off her brother.

"I thought you loved me-!" She gasped, starting on him like the lioness she'd become. "Trusted me-!"

"You have- you've lost yourself, Cersei." Jaime stumbled backwards, paralyzed at the knife in his side. It wasn't fatal, perhaps, but without any proper medical attention he most likely wouldn't last more than a day, two if he's lucky. He glanced around and grabbed a steak knife from a table, brandishing it as dangerously as he could. He gasped around the sudden spurts of pain.

"Lost myself-? I am the truest I have ever been!" She hissed. She was cornering him. Jaime felt like a deer. A helpless deer. There was a balcony behind him, maybe if he launched himself off it he could make it to the next building over. Maybe. He'd have to see.

"You are twisted." He provoked, and Cersei growled. "You have not been yourself since- since I don't remember. You are sick. And I can't stand to look upon you anymore."

He was crying, he noticed. But it wasn't a sob. Tears just rolled down his cheeks in a steady stream.

"You would break your Oath twice?" She mocked. The balcony was right there, right there... "You would betray me like that?"

He couldn't speak any longer. Nether could Cersei, coincidentally. The two of them collided again, Jaime plunging the steak knife into her ribcage and Cersei shoving her knife into his left shoulder. She was aiming for his heart, but the shoulder would have to do. With a shudder and a severe chill, Jaime climbed atop the balcony and turned, leaping from the stone of the castle to the roof of a neighboring building.

"I hope you're happy!" Cersei couldn't help getting a few last words in. She was on her knees in the ground, blood soaking her black cloak. "You killed me and our child. We could have had the rest of our lives together."

Jaime ran faster than he ever had. Or at least that's what it felt like. He somehow manage to steal some peasant's horse and start off on a canter North. He had only one goal now. He was bleeding out, and he'd die soon. Before he departed forever, he needed to see a certain woman and tell her he loved her.

 

 

The trek north was no small feat, especially with two open wounds, no food and no water. Not to mention no form of protection. Jaime ate only he remnants of the summer's berries and didn't rest. He did not sleep. When the horse needed a break from a constant fast canter, he walked beside it. When it needed to truly rest, he scouted ahead and avoided danger. There was a pack of wolves nearby. He needed to be careful.

Winterfell was different than how he remembered it. The Stark banners seemed new, and he remembered the Battle of the Bastards. Bolton flags hung there previously.

The guards that met him at the gate were immediately suspicious. They had been training for weeks after the incident with Arya, though they still seemed oblivious to the drowsy, weary state Jaime was in. He had lost a lot of blood.

"She's here." He tipped on his side and held onto the stone wall. "Brienne of Tarth. Tell her the Kingslayer is here to see her. Say it's urgent."

"Kingslayer? Are you Jaime Lannister?" One of the guards asked. They hadn't recognized him under all the muck.

"Yes." Jaime's speech was slurred. "I am Jaime Lannister. Find Brienne, please, I don't have very long."

"You're injured." The other guard noticed for the first time. "I thought you were drunk. Why do you need to speak with Lady Brienne?"

"I don't-!" He huffed, trying to wobble past them. They planted their spears in the dirt and stood firm. "Please! I only need a moment. What harm can I bring? I have two open wounds, I've lost half the blood in my body and am unarmed. You can search me again, but I am hiding nothing! Please, I am begging you."

They seemed convinced. The guard on he right whispered something to the one on the left, and the left turned and ran off.

"What's going on? Where's he going?" Jaime leaned to look past.

"To inform King Jon and Lady Brienne." He said, resuming his position and standing at attention. It was as if Jaime was no longer there. And so he waited. He stood and waited. He feared that if he sat he wouldn't be able to stand back up again. And so stand he did, and it seemed like an eternity.

"What's going on here?" It was King Jon that appeared first, wrapped in huge black furs and lined leathers. "Is what he told me true?" He gestured to the guard trailing behind him.

"Where is Lady Brienne?" Jaime stepped forward. He didn't look very threatening, hunched over with his one hand clutching his side. Jon looked to him and scowled at first, then changed his scowl to absolute disgust when he truly recognized who was in front of him.

"Why do you need to know? And why are you here?" He croaked. Jaime waddled forward some more. He couldn't see straight, everything was dizzy, and so he saw two and three Jon Snows.

"I need to talk to her." He begged. "Please. I'd get down on my knees and plead but I would not be able to get back up. I only need a moment."

There was another figure approaching. It didn't take long for Jaime to figure out who it was, even as dizzy as he was. Massive, pale blond hair cut short, shining armor of a true knight. She was glorious. He smiled, truly, and shoved past the guard.

"'Ey!" The guard grabbed his shoulder, and his cried out in weak pain.

"Brienne-!" He called. There was a pause in the air. The massive figure approached quickly, hastily, and disregarded Jon Snow's attempts to stop the both of them. Jaime fell against Brienne, placing his hand on her breastplate for balance and smearing fiery red blood across it. She caught him with surprising accuracy.

"Jaime, what are you-" She breathed in disbelief. "You've been stabbed."

"My sister." He said. "She stabbed me. I killed her. I killed our unborn child." He pressed his eyes shut and opened them again. They burned. His throat was dry. "Brienne, it doesn't matter. I don't have time. I need to talk to you."

"Let me get you a nurse, someone to help you." The weight of the situation sunk into Brienne and she called for one of the guards to bring a maester, a nurse, anyone who could help. Jaime was dying, he was dying quickly in her arms. She wouldn't allow that to happen. She brought him away from the center of the fort, with an important look towards King Jon, and dragged him to her chambers nearby.

"What do you need?" She leaned over him. He shifted constantly in the bed, soaking it through with blood. "What do you need to talk to me about?"

He didn't hesitate. "Brienne, it took me much too long to escape my sister. Too long. She had such control over me that I didn't even realize how terrible she was until a city burned. But then you were there, and you treated me like a person. Like an actual respectable person, which I'm not." He huffed a laugh and a cough crawled from his dry throat. "You make me want to be the best version of myself. Even if the best version is still an Oathbreaking Kingslayer."

Brienne heard the nurses in the hall, running towards them. She grasped Jaime's hand and urged him to continue, even if he really shouldn't have been talking.

"Brienne, before I go, you need to know that I love you."

At that moment the nurses burst in and pushed between them. It seemed as if the two of them were still the only ones in the room. Brienne couldn't take her eyes off him. Everything slowed down. What had she expected, really? He showed up running into Winterfell with two-day-old open wounds and a horribly pleading look on his face. She wished she could've teased him for begging to enter Winterfell. If the circumstances were any different, she was sure she still wouldn't have taken the chance.

It was hours that Brienne stood there, hovering the nurses and doing her best to stay out of the way. She couldn't leave him now. Not after what he'd told her. Unfortunately, she was too much in the way. Besides, she probably should have reported to the King when he asked for her, just when the nurses arrived. Tentatively she left the room and started into the hall, blood still streaked across her breastplate and a flush in her cheeks. She found the King talking with Lady Sansa on an overlook wrapping around the main buildings. That's where she liked to stand. It made her feel powerful.

"My King?" She approached them when it seemed they weren't all that heated. "You asked for me."

"Yes. Good." He glanced between Brienne and Sansa and beckoned the knight closer. "We were just discussing this. What in the Seven hells is the Kingslayer doing here? What is it he needed to tell you?"

If she was blushing before, it was nothing compared to her reaction now. "His name is Ser Jaime, my King. And what we spoke of is my own private business."

Sansa was too clever. "Does he gave feelings for you, Lady Brienne?"

Brienne looked away and studied the ice in between the floorboards. "That is not your business." She paused, suddenly realizing her rudeness. She lifted her head and narrowed her eyebrows. "I apologize, my Lady. I should not speak to you that way."

King Jon disregarded the last statement. "This is my business if you are under my roof. Did he tell you anything of importance? It seems he was the only survivor from Cersei's attacks on King's Landing. That is no coincidence."

This Brienne considered. "He said he killed Cersei and-" She thought over what he'd said. Our unborn child. "He said he killed Cersei. And that she stabbed him back in an attempt of revenge. She was insane, my King, it is a miracle even one person made it out alive."

"He had incentive to survive, it seemed." King Jon glanced back at Sansa, who was scowling, and turned quickly back to Brienne. "Thank you for answering my questions. I have some things to attend to now, if you'd excuse me." He brushed past them and did not look back at Sansa. The girl instead skimmed her eyes over Brienne and met her eyes.

"What is it he needed to tell you so badly?" She spoke quietly, moving closer to the knight. "Woman to woman. Can you tell me?"

"I don't know if he would want me to." Brienne said truthfully.

"All girls exchange these thoughts." Sansa shot back. "So what was it? Did he kiss you? He looked as if he wanted to kiss you."

"He..." She turned red again when she thought of that moment. "He told me he loved me."

"Loved you?" She murmured. "And this was before or after he covered you in his blood?" She smirked, and Brienne was glad she at least had a sense of humor.

"After." The knight flicked her eyes behind her, in the general direction of where Jaime most likely laid. "I'm sorry, my Lady, but I feel I should be watching him. I need to make sure he does not die on me." She bowed her head and began down the hall again, back to her room.

"Wait, Lady Brienne." Sansa called after her. Brienne stopped momentarily and faced Sansa. "What will you say? In response to his statement."

Brienne didn't need to think this one over. "I will tell the truth. That I love him."

The nurses were gone from the room, and the air was completely silent. When she opened the door, the creaking it made was three times louder than it should have been. The body in the bed was still, and Brienne found she could not get there quick enough. Jaime was awake, though barely. There was a weak smile on his lips. It disappeared when he saw the look on Brienne's face.

"You look like hell," He rasped.

"I look like-?" She huffed a laugh and shook her head. She pulled a chair up behind her and sat. "You've just been stabbed twice."

He didn't smile like he would've, though. That familiar mocking smirk was no where to be found. He was thinking. Was that it? He was only deep in thought. "Please don't worry yourself over me."

It wasn't what Brienne expected. She leaned forward, her armor clinking and Oathkeeper making it hard to move around too much while sitting. "Of course I'm worried about you." She found herself saying. "Why wouldn't I be? You're hurt, you're very hurt. Not to mention I've thought you were dead twice recently."

That's what he was waiting for. "I should have gotten it done and over with the first time, shouldn't I have?"

"No." She couldn't speak quickly enough. "No! Of course not."

He looked into her eyes. "You were terrified."

She nodded. It was no use trying to act like it wasn't true. "I was terrified. First it was burning to death. I couldn't stop picturing you getting... getting incinerated by that dragon. And then it was burning again, but explosions, and I couldn't stop seeing you blown to bits. I couldn't do anything about it."

Jaime paused. He'd closed his eyes. Brienne didn't like how dead he looked, and so she moved closer. Jaime opened his eyes, and she saw it was because he'd been trying to stop from crying.

"Why do you think I- I rode here?" He asked, shifting towards her and cringing. "I knew I was going to die. You needed to know how I felt before I was gone." But Brienne angled her face away, and Jaime sat up so he could reach and grasp her gloved hand. She looked up. "I'm sorry for scaring you. I shouldn't have done that." He managed to look even sadder than before.

She let out a puff of a laugh. "You are an idiot," She chuckled. Jaime gave a smile, finally, his spirits lifted somewhat. He was glad to know Brienne was fine now.

"I was trying to outdo you." He teased. That's it. That's all she needed. To know he wasn't dying, that he was himself and could crack a joke.

"Okay then, Ser Jaime." She mocked, standing and sniffling all sadness back inside. "Shall I bring you something to eat? I am sure your ride was long and not entirely providing of food."

He nodded. "I should come with you-"

"No. You're staying right there in bed so you can rest." She turned and walked to the door, pausing when she heard noise outside. With a cautious hand on Oathkeeper, she opened the door just slightly so she could look through.

She shouldn't have expected so much. It was Podric, standing awkwardly and looking as if he wished to knock on the door. Upon seeing Brienne, he stood to face her. "My Lady, I was just-"

"Oh, Pod. Good. Go fetch us some bread and honey and water." She ordered. "Be quick about it. Our guest here hasn't eaten in days."

Podric leaned to catch a glimpse of the Kingslayer, who lifted his right stump and waved. The squire nodded and went on his way. When Brienne shouted, "Be quick about it!" he began to run.

"All alone again, are we?" Jaime sat up and grunted. "Did you send him away just to stay with me, alone?"

"I should just leave you." She grunted and shut the door.

"What do you mean? I'm great company." He smirked and watched Brienne intently as she sat back in the chair.

"I will leave if you continue with that." She said, even if they both knew it wasn't true.

"You say it as if we live together."

At that, Brienne turned bright red and looked away. "Don't we, now? You're in my bed." Even as she said it she knew she shouldn't have said something so compromising. "I mean- I mean it's not like I'm with you in- oh my god what am I saying? I mean- I mean-"

"Keep going." Jaime's smile was huge.

"You're an asshole." She grumbled and avoided all eyes. He laughed out loud and sat back, sated. As long as he could harass Brienne he would be fine.

Fortunately, Podric saved them from further awkwardness by arriving shortly with a plate of food. He opened the door with one hand and balanced the food with the other, not even asking for help. He didn't need any, anyways. He set the platter on the desk and turned to face the two of them.

"Anything else, my Lady?" He tried not to look directly at Jaime.

"That'll be all, Pod. Training at sundown. Be in the yard on time this time, please." She wasn't pleading, though. Her face showed annoyance that she reserved just for her squire. Podric nodded nervously and headed out the door as quickly as he could.

"Have you been training him?" Jaime asked, propping himself up as Brienne brought over honeyed bread and water.

"Yes." She handed him the plate, making sure he had a firm grip on it before letting go and stepping away. "If he's going to be by my side, he has to know how to fight."

"And-" Jaime took a bite of the bread and chewed until he could fully respond. "-Does he know how to fight?"

Brienne scoffed. "Like a puppy. He's absolutely terrible, you know that? I've been training him for so long now, more than a year surely, and he barely makes any progress." She shook her head. "Maybe I'm simply a bad teacher."

Jaime hastily pushed that last thought aside. "You aren't a bad teacher. He's probably just not a natural, as all. I've worked with plenty of soldiers like that. Some men just weren't meant to fight." He paused, taking another bite. "I'd like to see you train him."

She considered this for about a half a second before shaking her head. "No. You need rest. I can't have you up and about with two holes in you."

He finished the bread and chugged the water. He was starving, as much as he tried to deny it. "I will see it eventually. You're a mesmerizing fighter."

Brienne flushed red and looked frustrated about it. "Stop doing that." She muttered.

"What?" He narrowed his eyebrows.

"Stop making me blush. Are you that in love with me? It's embarrassing." She sounded too harsh. Jaime flinched. "I'm sorry. That was mean."

"No, you're right. I'm sorry. I've been too forward. We should just keep our relationship as it was." He sounded disappointed, of course, but reserved. He respected whatever decision she was to make, and he portrayed that with his tone. Brienne looked him over.

"No." She leaned forward in her seat. "No. We can't do that any longer. You confessed, and I'm pretty sure it's not for any strategical or political reason."

"So you..." Jaime swallowed. "Do you- return my- feelings?"

Brienne was relieved he was no good at these things either. "Yes." She choked out. "I do."

There was a smile on Jaime's face like Brienne had never seen before. He leaned his head backwards and let out a breath he'd been holding. "You really mean it?" He added, to make sure.

She chuckled. "Yes, I mean it."

The two of them stared at each other for a moment before Brienne stood abruptly and cleared her throat. Her face was red again. "I have to- I should let you rest." And she turned, walked to the door, opened it, and paused. She glanced back for a little less than a second and disappeared, shutting the door behind her.

The knight followed around Lady Sansa for the good part of an afternoon, until Sansa got annoyed and Arya swooped down to the rescue and demanded they spar. Brienne figured it would be good. She needed to get her mind off... things, and it was supremely easier with Needle flying at her from every direction. After the two of them had beat each other for a solid few hours, Jon found the two of them and suggested (ordered, but Jon always sounded a little too nice when ordering) that Brienne should be training the men and women in their small army.

The army was fairly pathetic. A few of them were children, though no older than Brienne had been when she began training, so she figured it was fine. It was still disheartening to see a sword in a child's hand.

"Foot back." She nudged a little girl and watched her as she fought back against a much more muscular young man. Her brown hair was flying wildly around her face, keeping her partially blind and stumbling awkwardly around her partner's swings. "Stop. Stop." Brienne put her hands up to stop the match momentarily, grabbing a tie from her pocket and pulling back the girl's hair.

"Lesson number one," She leaned over to reach the little girl's height. "Either learn how to braid your hair, or cut it. If you do mean to join this force, that is." She tugged the tie tight and stood straight.

"Would you teach me how to braid my hair, Lady Brienne?" The girl looked up at the knight and looked hopeful. Brienne smiled.

"Why do you think I cut my hair?" She stepped back. "Ask your mother, or a sister. Resume. And watch your footwork." She raised her hands to signal the sparring, and the two went back at it, the girl fiercer than ever.

The training was menial work. Only a few soldiers could spar with Brienne, and those who could either gave up or were beaten into the snow. There was one man, older than Brienne but half as tall, that almost gave her a fair fight. He had strange techniques, and changed his usual moves each week so that it was hard to track what he'd do next. Brienne thought he was most fun. What she hated was his attitude towards her. He had some sort of vendetta for her, grumbling insults under his breath or complaining loudly in the barracks after supper.

And of course, there was Tormund. The wildling watched her closer than any of her students ever did, which was both annoying and uncomfortable. He'd wait until her partner was downed to approach, complimenting her and suggesting they spar themselves. She always politely refused, finding something or other to attend to. There was always something to do around there, whether that was a good or bad thing.

"Hello, my Lady." Tormund approached her with confidence today. "Would you like to test our strengths?"

This time, she wasn't sure if she had an excuse. The soldiers came in at an even number, and everyone had someone to partner with. "I know my strength. Find somewhere else to test yours." She didn't bother with politeness; at this point, he had to have known her feelings for him. That is, the lack thereof.

"Oh, come on now. All I ask is one round. What are you doing right now?" He had his axe with him, sharpened to a dangerous edge. He barely sharpened it. Brienne found it suspicious.

"I'm teaching." She insisted, walking round a pair of young men struggling to keep their blades up. "Keep it up." She leaned over the two of them. "A little while more and supper shall be ready."

"You have nothing to do right now." Tormund huffed. "They're all preoccupied."

Brienne sighed and looked down. She really didn't have an excuse. "Fine." She hissed through clenched teeth, and started for the sword rack against the wall, lined with dulled blades. Tormund grabbed her arm.

"No." He said. "Use the one with the lion pommel."

"This is no training sword." She raised her eyebrows.

"This is no training axe." He lifted the weapon and smiled a toothy grin. "Come on now. Your boyfriend is watching, let him see how you use his sword."

Brienne started. Her head darted to where her room might be, and found a scruffy face peering out from within. It was too cold to have the window open. He'd worsen his condition. Brienne groaned and went to go after him, scold him for being so careless, but the wildling grabbed her arm again.

"One round." He muttered. "Then you can go suck his cock."

"Watch your tongue." She ripped her arm from his grasp and scowled. She unsheathed Oathkeeper and the yard paused for a moment to watch how the Valerian steel reverberated against the cold. The soldiers knew it was to be a serious spar when their teacher used this sword. Tormund laughed and stepped back.

"This is all I asked for." He spread his arms wide. Brienne found her chance and slashed towards him. He blocked with the hilt of the axe, pushing her backwards. For once, Brienne couldn't use her size to her advantage. Tormund was roughly her height and weight, if not more. He swung for her, and she barely managed to evade. This would be an interesting fight indeed.

All the soldiers stopped to watch. They formed a circle, cheering them on. Brienne could see Lady Sansa watching from above, as always, and found even more pressure than before. She had to prove she could protect her Lady against any harm, any danger that might come her way. The fire lit in her eyes and she pressed harder against her opponent.

It was not long before they were both exhausted. They circled each other in the larger growing circle in the yard, nearly all of Winterfell watching by then. Brienne could not stop glancing towards the open window with the scruffy face. If he collapsed, she didn't know what she'd do. Jaime coughed and keeled over. In a sudden rush, Brienne barraged Tormund in a flurry of slashes, stabs and blocks. He was tired, she could see that clearly from the sweat soaking his face, but she was tired too. She had to end this quick.

It was maybe a minute later that she saw her opening. She cut upwards, catching Tormund's axe and flinging it out of his hands. She body-slammed him and elbowed up into his ribcage, sending him stumbling backward into the snow. He looked stunned. Brienne glanced at the window. Jaime was smiling. But he was also curled over, breathing heavily. She sheathed Oathkeeper and looked to Tormund momentarily.

"Good fight." She nodded briskly towards him and pushed through the crowd. "Continue sparring! If I come back to find even one of you without an active blade in your hands, I will personally spar with you!" And that got them to get back into position. No one wanted to cross Brienne then, with the fire in her eyes. Not even the pissy older man.

Brienne flung the door to her room open, still in fury. Jaime was crawling back into bed like a wounded bear slinking back into its cave. Her lips pressed into a thin line, she slammed the door behind her and stepped up to the bed. Jaime flinched and looked down before she even opened her mouth.

"Are you fucking insane?" She shouted. Another flinch. "You did exactly what I told you not to! If you haven't noticed, you've been stabbed twice! You need to rest, you need to stay in that bed and get better!" She shook her head, heaving breaths in her anger. "Have you even thought of how fucking worried I am? How my blood runs cold and my heart stops to see you so weak? Have you even considered that, you selfish bastard?"

"I'm sorry." Jaime didn't hesitate. He couldn't bear the silence. "It was selfish of me. I'm sorry. It won't happen again." But the silence did spread, as Brienne began to pace and rough her hands through her hair. "For the record, you are the best fighter I've ever seen."

"Shut your wide fucking mouth, Jaime."

"Of course."

Brienne didn't stop pacing for a while. She didn't remember the last time she'd been so stressed about something. She wasn't the type to waste time on overthinking things. She was a woman of action, not careful, delicate thought. A knight had no use for honeyed words or pleasantries. But now she couldn't stop. She couldn't stop thinking about every possible outcome, the what ifs and danger of it all. What would she do if Jaime just died, right then and there? He'd already died twice, and both those times were too much. Both of those times turned out not to happen. There was an elation again. There would be no mistake if he died in her arms. If she saw the light fade from his eyes, the death take over his muscles, falling slack in her arms.

She collapsed in a chair at her desk. Her forehead rested in her hand, and for the first time she noticed herself sobbing. Her chest shook. There was still blood swiped against the steel of her breastplate. Hastily she untied the leather around her shoulders and lifted it off, letting it drop to the floor with a clang.

"...Brienne?"

She looked up, finding Jaime staring at her like a dog caught stealing food. She wiped her eyes hurriedly and sniffed the sob back into her chest. But she found it hard to keep everything inside at that moment.

"I'm sorry." He echoed from before. "I didn't know I could- I didn't know I worried you this much." He made a move to get out of the bed, maybe get closer to her, but she stood and pointed a finger at him.

"Don't you dare." She said, her voice awfully hoarse. "Don't get up."

He laughed, a feeble noise. "I wanted to hug you."

She paused. "I don't hug."

He raised his eyebrows, a sad smile floating on his lips. "Maybe you should."

Brienne couldn't argue that. "I don't want to hurt you." She protested, even as he stood. "I could hurt you."

He placed his hand on her forearm. "If you hurt me, this is not the way you would do it." And he wrapped his arms around her, tucking his head into her chest. She curled around him, bringing her arms to wrap around and cling to him. She placed her cheek against his head, turning her head sideways.

"Please don't die." She managed to croak, and she could feel him give a breathy laugh.

"With you here? Why would I do that?"

She smiled and let herself sink into the hug. She tried to remember when the last time someone hugged her was. She didn't know. Though she was glad to have someone so willing.

Unfortunately, the knock at the door broke them apart. Brienne dried her eyes and carefully set Jaime back into the bed, walking to the door and opening it. She forgot she'd left her breastplate laying on the floor.

"Lady Brienne." It was one of Jon's advisors, what was his name? Davos? She'd heard him called the onion knight. "I noticed you were absent from the yard. One of your soldiers said they'd seen you run off. Is everything alright? Shall I continue the training for today?"

Davos was a kind man. Brienne gave a smile and hoped her eyes didn't look red. "No Ser, I will return shortly. I had- matters to attend to."

The onion knight glanced into the room and saw Jaime, sitting up in the bed and massaging his right wrist. He seemed to understand. "Okay then. Is there a problem with your breastplate?"

Brienne flushed red and glanced back at the junk of metal on the floor. "Certainly not, I apologize for my messiness. I'll clean it up right now."

He nodded. "Good." And he turned and went on his way. Brienne shut the door and took a long, deep sigh before hurrying to the breastplate on the floor. She grabbed a towel hanging over the side of her tub and scrubbed off the congealed blood, then put on the armor herself.

"Do you think you'll be fine until after dinner?" She shifted Oathkeeper, making sure everything was in order. "I'll have someone bring you food."

Jaime nodded. "I'll be fine. I'll try to sleep some, like you told me to." He laid back with a smirk and Brienne walked to the door. "Have fun." He muttered at last, as she was leaving.

"I'll try." She huffed, and she was gone. Jaime made sure not to watch her through the window again, and instead drifted off to a troublesome sleep.

Brienne had yet more trouble training the soldiers. They were distracted by her distraction, and the cold didn't help. It was freezing. Stiff joints were no good for sword-fighting. For those who could keep up, it was warming and well needed. Brienne almost sent the children inside. It was torturous watching them grit their teeth and shiver, blocking blows from someone much larger than them.

As Brienne passed the little girl from before, she paused to watch. The girl disarmed her opponent and placed the tip of her training sword to his neck. She was breathing heavily. Without looking towards her trainer, she exclaimed, "I'm going to cut my hair."

Brienne felt a smile slip onto her lips. "Not one for braiding?"

"Braiding is for sissies." She stepped away from her partner and leaned against her sword in the dirt, finally facing Brienne. "You aren't a sissy. You cut your hair."

"And do you want to be a knight, girl?"

"I'm going to be a knight. One day I'll come back here and spar with you and win." She announced. A few soldiers around her glanced in her direction and scoffed.

"If that happens," Brienne managed a laugh, "I will have to send you to better knights to spar."

"There are no better knights than you." The girl insisted. "You're the greatest there ever was."

At this, Brienne did laugh out loud. "Yes. Then I am not Brienne of Tarth. Continue, you've just made quite a big promise there." She lingered to watch how the girl began again. "Foot back." She ordered, and moved on.

That was the extent of excitement until supper. When that final bell rung, Brienne swore she could hear the earth itself sigh. The soldiers dropped their training swords onto the rack and headed inside as quickly as their frozen muscles would allow. Brienne hung back. She was staring at the window of her room, curtains drawn and no movement from inside. Her stomach twisted with worry, and she tried to push it aside. There was no effect. How had she come to worry so much about one person? She didn't even give herself this much worry.

"Concerned?"

Brienne froze up and whipped around. It was King Jon. He looked broody as always, furs piled high around his neck. She bowed her head to him as he approached and followed her recent gaze.

"You worry quite a bit for this man." He stated. "You love him."

She nodded, not feeling it worth it to lie. "Yes."

He was silent for a moment. That's how it was with Jon. When he spoke it was either broody or profound, and when he didn't his face took the form of a scowl. Sometimes Brienne forgot he was much younger than him.

"I have a proposition for you, Lady Brienne." He said, after much thought. "Will you consider this?"

"What is it, my King?"

"Jaime Lannister is no innocent man." He frowned. "His crimes pile high. You say he even murdered his sister. Given his status, I might not have charged him, some time ago. But things have changed. Only he and his brother remain of his house. And he has skill with a sword, even with his remaining hand, which brings me to my proposition." He took a large breath and still did not face Brienne. "Remnants of his army wanders in these nearby forests. They stay along the Kingsroad. We plan a raid in a fortnight to send out our troops and wipe them out, once and for all. If he were to accompany us and fight for us, I will forget all his precious crimes."

Brienne felt as if the snow had overtaken her. "They are his own men, my King." Her voice was low and careful. "You expect him to kill his own men?"

"Yes, I do." His dark eyes broke away from the window and faced the knight. "I expect him to do so for you. Understand this, Lady Brienne. The people of Winterfell want him dead. He should be hanged for what he's done. I am giving you a chance to free him entirely." He looked at the ground, then back to Brienne, then towards the dining hall. "It is time to eat. Consider it, Lady Brienne. See me in two days with your answer."

She wanted desperately to argue further, to protest that he may not be healed by then, that he may not agree to it himself, but Jon was gone. Brienne supposed she should eat too.

Supper was standard, and therefor boring. Podric told stories from his previous jobs with Tyrion in Kingslanding, entertaining the soldiers at their table but doing nothing for Brienne. She'd heard all these stories three times over. She did make sure to send someone to bring Jaime food. She hoped he'd be sleeping.

"And what of you, Lady Brienne?" One of the soldiers asked, a man with an eyepatch. "Do you have any stories?"

"I am not one for stories." She said, plainly enough.

"Not one? What, are they too good for a knight like you?" An older woman with scar across her cheek asked. She was scowling. The other soldiers joined her.

"Not at all. I simply don't have the talent for it." Brienne defended, hoping they wouldn't make this into an argument. They loved to create drama. "Nothing more."

"Well Pod's told all the stories he could, even if we heard 'em a thousand times." Eyepatch continued.

"I got a story you could tell." A third solider joined in, a man with curly brown hair. "Your boyfriend just came here all bloody and lookin' for you. I always wondered, how'd he lose his hand?"

Brienne was relieved they didn't ask why he'd come back in the first place. The story he proposed wasn't much better. "That is no pleasant story for me to tell."

"'Ey, I told the story of how my brother got killed." Eyepatch sat up. "You tell us your story." And the table roused, clearly wanting her story. Brienne gritted her teeth and looked down. There wasn't much of a way out of this.

"Fine." She complied. "A short version." The soldiers leaned in, quieting down. Brienne was glad the rest of the hall was so loud. "I was tasked by Lady Catelin Stark to bring Ser Jaime back to King's Landing. It was a simple mission." She thought back to those walks in the woods and shook her head. He was so annoying. "When we were crossing a bridge, as I didn't see an alternate route, my prisoner tried making a run for it and took one of my swords, and turned to fight me. I won, with not much effort, but the Boltons came upon us and took us as their own prisoners."

The soldiers were quieter than Brienne had ever seen them. She sighed and continued. "That night, some of the Bolton men- tried to harm me. Take me away into the woods. Ser Jaime talked to one of the captains and convinced him not to hurt me in any way, and went on to try and sweet talk some luxuries out of him. The captain acted as if he was going to feed Ser Jaime fresh pheasant or whatever it was, but when he seated him at the tree stump he sent threats his direction. I did not hear what they were saying. But I heard a scream, and next thing I knew the captain had cleaved off his hand with a knife."

For a moment the soldiers didn't realize that was the end. Then they looked at each other, exchanged scowls, and sat back.

"That's all?" The scarred woman had her eyebrows narrowed. "He saved you and got his hand cut off? Just like that?"

"I thought it happened during some fight or somethin'." Eyepatch pursed his lips.

Brienne nodded. "That was it."

"And what happened after?" The curly-haired man asked.

Brienne shrugged and took a long sip of ale. "Whatever you expected would happen to a knight who lost his sword hand. The Bolton men treated him like shit, too." She finished a last piece of meat and stood. "I'm done here. Podric, meet me in the yard."

She turned, hearing the, "Yes, my Lady," pass through his lips. She didn't want anything to do with the soldiers and their stories. She almost wished she'd told a fake story. Some heroic battle in which Jaime got his hand cut off by a sword, or axe. Not by a butcher's knife during his own imprisonment.

It was colder than before, if that was possible. Brienne pulled her furs tighter around her and breathed heavily, sending clouds into the air. She wished she had hot cider instead of watery ale, and a steaming chicken pie instead of salted pork and whatever shit was leftover from summer's last crops. But this was how it was supposed to be. She was in the service of the Stark family, until they all died off or until she died. Or unless they released her from service. She had to stay and watch over the remaining wolf pack.

"My Lady." Podric might as well have snuck up on her. The snow made even him quiet. "It is too cold tonight for training. I can get up earlier tomorrow, if that would suit you better."

Brienne considered this. Her squire was either trying to get out of being beaten into the snow, or he'd seen her worry and wanted her to go back to her 'boyfriend' early. "If we break routine, we become lazy. Fetch us two training swords."

Podric paused. "My Lady-"

"Get the swords, Pod, or we're staying an extra hour later."

He certainly didn't want that. He ran to the sword racks and grabbed two, tossing one in Brienne's direction and moving to the middle of the yard. They began, Brienne fussier than usual and not allowing Podric any shortcuts. By the time they were reaching the end of their training, the sun was gone and all the light they had were the torches scattered about the edge of the yard.

"Footwork, Pod." She easily deflected a blow and kicked out his ankles. He fell to the hard dirt with a huff. "If you don't watch for where your feet are, anyone can do as I just did. You'd be dead right now if this was-"

"If this was a real fight, yes, I know." He stuck the top of his sword into the ground to help him stand. "We've been out here quite long enough, My Lady. Everyone else is in their beds."

"Everyone else does not need the training you do, and not everyone else is my squire." She raised her sword. She could feel her muscles straining, her bones screaming for her to stop, her joints begging for rest. "Let's do that movement again."

Podric groaned and struggled to hold his sword up. He deflected the first slash, but stepped away and stopped after that. He saw something behind Brienne and would not stop staring.

"Lift your sword, Podric." Brienne was beginning to be annoyed by Podric's laziness.

"Brienne." A voice called from behind them. Brienne froze, her jaw clenching, and turned to find Jaime approaching them. At least he wore furs to protect against the bitter cold.

"What are you doing out here?" She dropped her training sword and ran to him, grasping his shoulders and rubbing his arms. He was shivering.

"It's nearly midnight." He looked behind her at Podric. "Having fun out here, Pod?"

The squire sent a sarcastic smile and said nothing.

"Again, what are you doing out here?" Brienne brought Jaime's attention back to her. "It's freezing. You should be asleep."

He smirked. "It is freezing, and I was looking for you. Everyone else is in their beds, what are you still doing out here?" When Brienne frowned and clearly didn't like his answer, he sighed and took hold of her arm instead. "We're going now. Pod, you don't mind cleaning up here? Go to bed as soon as you are finished."

"Yes, Ser."

Brienne didn't fight. She was exhausted. Besides, who would argue the prospect of a warm bed (and possibly someone to warm you as well)? They navigated the dark corridors until they reached the heavy wood door, and Brienne pushed through with Jaime trailing behind her.

"I can't believe you-" Brienne started, just as she shut the door.

"No. This time you aren't allowed to yell at me." Jaime slipped off the furs and went to help Brienne with her armor. "It's freezing out there, and you've been training all day. What do you think you're trying to accomplish out there?"

"I have a job to do." She insisted, laying her gloves on the table. "I have been tasked to train all the soldiers-"

"That is too many for one woman." He lifted the breastplate off her and set it on the table as well. "You have to ask for help, someone to train the men as well. Surely there are one or two other competent swordsmen in Winterfell."

"That is not the point." She quickly pulled on a thick fur-lined robe and turned to face Jaime. "I have been given this job alone, and I have to prove to the Starks that I can handle it."

"Why would this one job prove that you weren't worthy?" He stalked to the fire and loaded in some more wood. The flames sparked up and Brienne wondered if he'd started a fire himself. "You've already shown that you can protect those Starks, and those who don't need your protecting are perfectly capable of defending themselves."

Brienne didn't have a way to rebut that. She slumped into the bed and rubbed her face in her hands. There was nothing more she could say. He was right. Not as if she'd admit that.

"You're a stubborn mule." Jaime sat beside her with a smirk. "What is it now?" He noticed her continual discomfort and inched closer. His warmth made her both uncomfortable and comfortable.

She hesitated. "King Jon approached me today. With a proposition, he said."

Jaime shifted but turned his full attention on her. "A proposition? For what?"

"For you." She sighed. "He said- he said you were guilty of many crimes, that most here want you hanged. But he said you could be freed of all your crimes if you- if you ride with us along the Kingsroad and in the forests, killing or capturing the remnants of your- of your men. Lannister men."

He looked torn immediately. "They expect me to hunt down my own men?"

Brienne couldn't meet his eyes. "King Jon said he expected you to kill your own men for me. Which-" She stopped him before he spoke. "Which is absurd. Of course it is. It's completely belittling to- to you, to me, and it's not fair for you. You shouldn't have to make a choice like that. It's not right."

"It's not like I deserve any better." He admitted. "I mean, I am in the home of the enemy. I did murder the last King, the dragon woman's father, and my sister. I lead the army against the Starks. I should be hanged for my crimes." He scoffed, then saw Brienne's face and cleared his throat to pretend he hadn't scoffed. "But you don't want me to die."

"You the dumbest Lannister there ever was."

He laughed, a more lively noise than his previous laughs. Brienne hoped that meant he was healing. "So then I join you on the hunt for my men. What other choice do I have?"

"I don't know." Brienne admitted.

There was a tense pause. Jaime rolled his shoulders back, simultaneously remembering his injury and clutching his shoulder in searing pain. He stood and walked to the other side of the bed. The fire was popping and crackling, and would last most the night.

"I suppose we share a bed tonight?" He smirked and climbed in, covering himself with the furs.

Brienne tensed up and glanced back. Jaime stared from beneath a pile of furs, the amusement in his eyes causing a smile to sneak onto her face for half a second. He looked like a child, excited for his first camping trip under the stars. Only, they weren't under stars, and instead he was sharing a bed with the woman he loved.

"I suppose so." She huffed in defeat and inched under with him, keeping a respectable distance between them. "And touching and I'll kill you."

"I'm a very active sleeper, I will warn you." His familiar smirk reached her even in the dim light. "I have a tendency to... grab those who sleep beside me." His hand pinched her side and disappeared all within a second, and Brienne yelped and moved away.

"Jaime, I'm warning you!" She turned on him, glaring.

He turned over, away from her. "Don't worry. I'll stay on my side. Maybe." He looked over his shoulder and turned away once and for all. Brienne rolled her eyes and rolled over, facing away from him as well.

"Men." She grumbled, and sleep overcame them.


	2. It's too cold out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Days go by quickly when it's freezing. 
> 
> Cuddling, some wholesomeness, wintery walks, and I'm a little afraid of Bran (is he okay? What's his deal). Rated "I'm only kind of sorry for all the torture I'm putting these people through 'cause GRRM is much more guilty than me"

The night was cold and dark. And full of terrors, too. For real. Wolves howled in the distance, trees creaked like ghosts screaming and Brienne couldn't sleep from the groaning and shifting beside her.

She had hoped all the joking Jaime had made meant he'd sleep well. Whenever he joked about something he knew she didn't like, he didn't follow through. This was no different. He didn't touch her the whole night, at least not intentionally, and slept fairly still. What Brienne didn't know was that he had night terrors, and it was the saddest thing she'd ever seen.

At first it wasn't much. A few flinches. Some twitching. It quickly turned dark, when he mewled in pain and gripped the sheets with his one hand and squeezed his eyes shut. Brienne tried to wake him, but that made it worse - he recoiled from her touch as if she were made of fire, and called out in his sleep to his sister, his father, to Brienne. She didn't know that he saw the fire, the viscera of war and smelt the stench of the battlefield. He saw the city burning, he heard the screams of the innocent and his sister calling his name as he ran away, wolves howling and lions roaring, a dragon call overhead and it's fire melting his body to ash. He saw Brienne being taken from him, he saw her set ablaze and screaming for help, he heard his own screams as he was forced to watch.

Brienne shook him awake. She was about to slap him in the face when he gasped and woke. His entire body felt freezing, even though the room was warm, and his forehead dripped cold sweat. He heaved unsteady breaths and grabbed whatever figure was in front of him. His phantom hand burned so terribly that he gagged and pressed it into his chest.

"Jaime." It was Brienne. Her face came into view. She looked horrified. Jaime's green eyes practically glowed in the low light.

"I'm sorry." Was all he could manage. He was trembling. His teeth clenched together. He pushed away from Brienne and moved to the side of the bed, his feet touching the cold stone floor. He worked on evening his breath, on ripping his thoughts away from the dream.

"Do you have night terrors?" Brienne was right behind him. He flinched and looked down.

"Sometimes."

She was quiet for a minute. She moved to sit beside him. "What did you see?"

He shook his head. He felt like he was going to vomit. He couldn't speak. Brienne nodded, understanding.

"Does your hand hurt?" She noticed the way he pressed his right wrist against his chest. He nodded shakily and she reached out. "Let me see." And he hesitantly let her look at the scarring around his wrist and forearm, and she gently massaging some of the ache away.

Time passed quickly. It was long they sat there, in silence. Brienne let go of his severed hand eventually and crawled back to her side of the bed, where her feet hung off and she stayed far from Jaime's side. He sat for a moment more before joining her, laying down and staring at the ceiling. The fire simmered in its own ashes. Jaime shivered and covered his ears with his pillow.

Jaime didn't sleep the rest of the night. Brienne tried, and drifted off once or twice only to awake and find green eyes staring at the ceiling. Brienne got fed up a few hours later. She turned on her side and tucked her arms around Jaime, cradling him against her and quelling his shivers. He drifted off to sleep in no time.

The morning was cruel in its brightness. Brienne had fallen asleep, but only kind of, and the daylight creeping in through the curtains made her shift in discomfort. Jaime was still dead asleep, his breathing soft and even. Brienne's arm, the one slipped between his neck and the pillow, had fallen asleep. When she carefully pulled away she cringed at the worst pins and needles she'd ever had.

Brienne had never put on her armor so quietly. As soon as Oathkeeper was strapped around her waist and her leather boots were on, she ran a hand through Jaime's dulled blond hair and departed out the door.

Podric was waiting for her in the yard. He'd come out earlier, like he promised, but it was worth nothing since his instructor was no where to be found. By the time she appeared in the yard, yawning, all the soldiers had started their morning exercises.

"My Lady." Podric greeted. Brienne looked up and met his eyes, yawning once more. "I see you did not sleep much."

She shook her head and blinked drowsily. "Not much. And how did you sleep, after late night training?"

"Well." He mused. "I came out here early this morning, but I suppose you really needed to sleep in a bit." He smiled and looked to the soldiers. "I set them all into the usual exercises you teach. I hope you don't mind."

Brienne managed a half-smile. "Maybe you are learning after all."

She made the rounds, checking on all the soldiers and their partners. The little girl had cut her hair after all, and now fought more ferociously than ever. Brienne passed the older man with the vendetta against her, and noticed him scowl at her more than usual.

"The Kingslayer keep you up all night?" He mocked, and his partner chuckled. "Tell me, does he like to pretend you're his sister when 'e fucks you?"

Brienne was too tired to flush red. She was ready to channel all her frustration and worry into her sword, however. "Into the middle of the yard. We're sparring together." She demanded.

The solider smirked and walked to the middle of the yard. "You seem to really love that sword, My Lady." He hissed. Brienne realized he hated her because of her relation with Jaime. It wasn't that he hated her, it's that he hated him and anyone that even spoke to him.

"Shut your mouth and lift your sword." She took the training sword from Podric and blinked away the sleep in her eyes. She hoped that wouldn't effect her. The soldier lifted his sword and didn't hesitate to move first, an easy move that Brienne blocked easily.

Brienne fought tougher than even yesterday, when Tormund had insisted on sparring with her. She pounded down on this soldier, not only blocking his blows but shoving back, making him lose his balance many times. The more he opened his mouth and teased her, the harder her strikes were and the more frustration crept into his eyes. The sun was shining. It was cold out. Birds chirped and crows cawed, and Brienne noticed none of these thing. If a dragon flew overhead she doubted she'd notice.

The soldier made a mistake when he swung wide and left his chest open. Brienne pushed forward, elbowing up into his chin and slamming him backwards into the snow. He got a good pound on her left arm as he fell, and Brienne knew that would bruise. She didn't care. The soldier was down, breathing heavily. He spat blood and scowled.

"This bitch is crazy." He growled as his friends lifted him. Brienne disregarded all he said after that, all the insults to her in particular. She had a thought, during their fight. If he was going to hate hate her, hate her for being Brienne of Tarth, not for being close to Jaime Lannister. She hoped she'd hurt him bad enough to hate her more than he hated Jaime.

"My Lady." Podric commented. "I've never seen you pound on the soldiers that roughly. Did something happen with-?"

"No, nothing happened." She stopped by his side and planted her sword in the snow. "Just fucking hate him."

Podric smiled a little and didn't respond to that. Instead, he stepped back and raised his sword. "Shall we do our training, my Lady?"

They continued with their training until the bell rang for breakfast, and the soldiers departed quickly. Brienne stalked around the yard, after sending Podric in, and picked up after those who left training swords behind. The morning went quickly. She sent food back to her room and ate blandly, and there was no excitement all day. Training went by as a cloud went by, with nothing to it at all. The pissy older man grumbled about Brienne all day, but she wasn't bothered to do anything about it. This day was colder than the day before, and it snowed just past midday. That snow lasted all too long. Against the outer walls and at the least slanted places of the roof, the snow piled over three feet. And it didn't slow down.

Brienne called all the soldiers inside when the little girl with cut hair slipped on ice and cut her hand open. A few others had fallen and bruised themselves, but she decided to call it when blood made its appearance. Everyone huddled into their barracks, lit fires and bundled into furs. The little girl followed Brienne back to her room, to get her hand cleaned and wrapped.

"Jaime." She knocked on the door. "You had better be decent. I'm coming in, and I have a child with me." She paused and opened the door. The fire was re-started and the plate of food she'd sent was cleaned off. There was a pile of three books by the side of the bed. The body in the bed was unmoving, but Brienne knew he wasn't asleep. "Come. Sit on the chair." And the little girl scurried in, plopped herself onto the wicker chair at the table and kicked her legs back and forth. The knight fetched a roll of bandage from the desk drawer and kneeled in front of the girl to wrap her bloodied hand.

"Shut the door." The form in the bed grumbled. "You're letting the cold in."

"Who said that?" She acted confused. The girl giggled. "Is the bed speaking?"

"Brienne!" The body shifted and sat up and threw a pillow at Brienne's head. She caught it before it could touch the floor, and shut the door before another could be thrown.

"Don't get my pillows dirty." She threw the pillow back into the bed and got back to the girl, finishing winding the bandage while Jaime sat up and rubbed his eyes.

"Who's that?" He noticed the girl for the first time. "What's your name, girl?"

She looked over Jaime and frowned. "I'm Myrissa. Are you the Kingslayer?"

"His name is Ser Jaime, and you will call him that." Brienne cut off before Jaime could even open his mouth. She tied off the bandage and stood. "That should do for now. I'll walk you back to your home. I'm sure your mother is waiting for you." Brienne took her hand carefully and walked her to the door. She left without another word and shut the door quickly.

The cold was a barrage of a thousand arrows to any open skin. Brienne told Myrissa to angle her face down. It made it easier to walk and see. The girl led her to her small home off the main Winterfell buildings. Her mother thanked Brienne for fixing her hand and offered some firewood in return, though Brienne insisted she keep it. It would be a long winter. She left quickly. It was too bitter out to linger anywhere.

She was stopped on the way back to the room. It was Ser Davos again, looking conflicted. "Lady Brienne." He called, and the two stopped to face each other. "King Jon asks if you have an answer."

"He said I have two days to answer." She narrowed her eyebrows.

"That was the case, yesterday." Davos shifted on his feet. "The scattered army has been found to be gathering together, and setting up camps all around Winterfell. Without a leader I don't expect they'll be able to do much, but King Jon ordered we ride out in a few days to meet them in battle."

Brienne was appalled. "My Lord, this isn't nearly enough time. Ser Jaime will not be healed by then."

"We have no choice." He insisted. "We cannot let the enemy forces grow. Give me an answer by the end of the day."

He turned and left without another word. Brienne pursed her lips and pressed her hands together and walked slowly back to the room. It seems every step was drawn out, and he hall became longer every second. What was she going to do? They didn't have much of a choice.

She opened the door and shut it as quickly as she could. The fire warmed the room wonderfully, and the furs on the bed looked awfully tempting. She wished she could just crawl under and not come out until summer came again. Instead, she sat on the wicker chair and sighed loudly.

"I see you tried to entertain yourself." She gestured to the books. Jaime inched out from under the covers and followed her gaze. "Where'd you find those?"

"They were in the room. In the desk." He rubbed his face in his hands.

"Anything interesting?"

"I couldn't even get past the title."

She chuckled, momentarily forgetting about their predicament. "Can't you read? I thought you were supposed to have some of the best education in all of Westeros."

"Apparently I did. My father made me sit with him every morning for hours." He scowled. "Never got easier. The letters fly around on the page, and the harder I focus the less I can read it. Never mind that, reading is for the weak. What's wrong with you?" He noticed her discomfort and propped himself up on pillows.

"Our deadline was moved up." She crossed her legs and sat back. "You have to decide death or riding out with us by tonight."

"What? Why?"

"Apparently the remnants of your army is gathering somewhere near Winterfell. We ride out in a few days to defeat them once and for all." She studied the stones on the floor and shook her head. "You won't be better by then. We've been tricked."

"No, I don't think so." He rubbed his shoulder. "I have started to feel better already. I don't think Jon Snow of all people wants to screw us over." He paused and considered what he said. "Us. I meant me. I doubt he wants to screw- oh shut up."

Brienne had begun to laugh under her breath. "You're awfully comfortable with yourself here, aren't you?"

He shrugged and winced at his shoulder. "You're the one who cuddled me last night."

She flushed red immediately and looked away. "You wouldn't stop whimpering like a kicked dog. It was annoying. What happened, anyway?" She tried changing the subject, able to meet his eyes but just for a second. It clearly wasn't the thing to change to.

"It was nothing." His voice got low and dangerous. "It just happens sometimes."

"You were screaming. I was worried."

"You're always worried. Stop worrying about me." He spat, then stopped himself and looked away. His green eyes seemed all too snake-like. "I'm sorry. That was rude. I appreciate what you did, I- I needed that."

Brienne switched her crossed legs. She stretched her neck back and sighed loudly. "It's fine." A pause. "I'm bored. There's nothing to do here but sleep and stay indoors. It's terrible."

Jaime slipped out of the bed and stalked to the window. Maybe he was healing quickly. He didn't move as if he were on nails anymore. "I have an idea. He glanced back. "It stopped snowing. Show me around Winterfell."

She shook her head. "It's too cold."

"But I'm bored too. There isn't anything to do, you're right. But we can at least explore. If I'm staying in this piece of shit I'd at least like to know where everything is." He grabbed his furs from the back of the chair at the table, still singed from the fires in King's Landing, and slung it over his shoulders.

"Jaime, no." But Brienne stood. "I don't want to get frostbite, and I certainly don't need you getting worse."

"Don't worry, I have five less appendages to get frostbite. I'm five percent less likely to lose any toes or fingers." He smirked and tied a knot around the end of his right sleeve. "See? Extra warmth too. Take off that armor and put on some furs, we're going out."

Maybe Brienne could've argued, but there would be no point. As soon as they were out the door Brienne regretted it, however, as a gust of wind flew right at their faces and pelted the skin was frost.

"It's not too late to turn back." She brought her arm over her face. "No shame in turning back."

"There is shame, and I will have none of it." Jaime persisted, that sly smirk still glued to his lips. How did he stay that unconcerned all the time? "Show me to the terrifying bloody tree."

It was hard to walk five feet in the height of this snow, but somehow the two of them found a way to keep smiles on their faces. Jaime insisted on holding her hand, saying he didn't want to lose her in the snow. She was pale enough, after all- the blond hair would blend right in. It wasn't a smooth move. No one was impressed. Fortunately for Jaime, Brienne didn't mind holding his hand. She was a little afraid he'd slip and fall in the snow.

The tree wasn't the only thing out there in the wilds. Bran sat in his chair, staring out into the whiteness with his standard emotionless face. Brienne didn't like Bran. His lack of any human emotion made it hard to even meet his eyes.

"Lady Brienne." He greeted, his head turning to catch her gaze. He didn't bother addressing Jaime. Brown eyes burrowed into her soul. "You sent all your men indoors, and yet here you are. Wishing to see the tree." He didn't say it as a question, as one might've, but a fact. She was out there to see the tree.

"Yes." She answered, not knowing what else to say. "What are you doing out here? It is too cold for you."

"I'm not cold." He said. A flock of ravens flew over and stopped midair over them, going silent and hovering like a black cloud. "Jon asked me to scout. He said it would be good for me to do something." The ravens released from whatever spell he placed on them and scattered in all directions. "Two hundred men camp in the forest nearby." Finally Bran turned his attention to Jaime, who stood almost behind Brienne. "You know that. You do not want to kill them."

Jaime shifted from foot to foot. "They are my men."

"Not anymore. You turned yourself over to the wolf pack." Bran cocked his head to the side. "You still fear what I might do. I have no reason to expose you. It is below me." He paused. "What are you still doing here? Move along. You saw the tree."

They did. Quickly. They rounded the exterior of Winterfell, wanting to peer around the spotless wintery landscape instead of dirty old stone buildings. It was after a few minutes that Jaime spoke.

"I don't like him." He grumbled. Brienne avoided a smile and simply nodded. "Why is he like that?"

Brienne was too busy thinking about what he'd said to Jaime. "What was he talking about exposing you? What does that mean?"

He stiffened and shook his head. "Don't worry about it. It is in the past now."

It was too windy to keep talking. They managed to lift their spirits a bit when a rabbit ran out in front of them and disappeared into the trees. Jaime made a comment about it looking delicious, and Brienne scoffed and scolded him. The air felt lighter. They entered the walls of Winterfell, too effected by the harsh winds, and walked up close against the walls to avoid the worst of it. The sun was dipping and the sky was darkening by the time they made it back in the main stone building. Apparently the bell for supper had rung just a bit earlier, because the dining hall was bustling with noise and merriment.

Brienne knew what Jaime was thinking before he opened his mouth, but he spoke too quickly for her to cut him off. "I want to eat with you tonight."

"That is a bad idea." She huffed. "Everyone here wants you dead, why do you think it would be smart to eat surrounded by Starks? A lion has no power in a wolf's den."

He smirked at her analogy. "I have you. You're my bodyguard."

She groaned lowly. "I don't want to be responsible for you." He raised his eyebrows and she insisted. "Jaime, I really don't think it's a good idea. You're in danger here."

"I'm in danger most places I go." He pointed out. Come on. I'm hungry." And he pushed past her, into the dining hall. Brienne hissed his name lowly but had no choice but to go after him.

The hall fell silent as soon as he appeared. Brienne had never felt her face go so red. She knew this was a bad idea. They walked to the table with the soldiers and Podric, who at least sent an apologetic smile. The noise started up again hesitantly, like an awkward teen who wasn't quite sure they'd heard something correctly.

"Ale, let's get some ale over here!" Jaime called, grabbing a piece of salted pork and digging in. A servant girl placed a mug of ale in front of him, and he thanked her.

"Kingslayer." The same man from the night before, the one with the eyepatch, leaned forward. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"You'd better watch your tongue, there are children here." Jaime answered immediately, clever green eyes flicking down to Myrissa, who looked away as soon as she noticed him glance at her. "I thought I'd eat. Am I not allowed to eat?"

"Not here you aren't." The scarred woman hissed.

"I have a right to food just as you do." He swallowed the pork and took a long sip of ale. "Believe it or not, I am a human that needs food to survive."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Kingslayer." Eyepatch said. "You don't deserve to survive any longer. If King Jon had any common sense he'd hang you. If I was in charge, I-"

"But you aren't in charge." Jaime cut off. "Jon Snow is. Meaning you have nothing to do with the decision of my life." He sent a short smile and tore into the food. Brienne shifted her weight and swallowed, hoping the supper could go by without too much drama. Podric noticed her discomfort and talked to the soldiers across from them, distracting them from the enemy sitting at the table.

Supper passed quickly, along with everything else that day. All those that started to harass Jaime were stolen away by Podric's unrealistic but entertaining stories. Then again, an army of the dead marched for them and dragons were back after centuries, so who's questioning? After the food was cleared out and everyone began to head home, to warm beds and roaring fires, Brienne forced Jaime to his feet to prevent him taking any more food.

"Pod, no training tonight. Too cold." She explained, and pulled Jaime away before (she hoped) Jon or Davos would notice. Podric nodded and stood as well, leaving quickly in favor of sleep. Jaime and Brienne were almost out of the hall, so close-

"Lady Brienne." It was Jon. "Wait."

She bit her lip and turned. "Yes?"

"Come. Sit." He gestured to the empty chairs at the table. The remaining in the hall all sat at that table. Jon in the middle, Sansa to his left and Arya on the right. Davos sat beside Arya and Lord Baelish was next to Sansa, watching Brienne and Jaime closely.

Brienne swallowed and sat, her and Jaime across from everyone. It felt like an interrogation. Jon noticed her obvious discomfort.

"You aren't in trouble." He leaned forward against the table. "I assure you. Have you thought about my proposition?"

"I have, my King." She nodded and glanced at Jaime, he looked composed all of a sudden.

"Has Ser Jaime?"

"I have." He answered for himself. When Jon nodded for him to answer, Jaime glanced at Brienne, his eyes tricking him and revealing that he meant to say something he probably wasn't supposed to. "I have come to my answer." He paused, studying Jon carefully. "I don't want to make any assumptions, King Jon," He said his name as if it left a bad taste on his tongue, "But you are not one for revenge. You do not hold grudges or do things out of spite. Am I right in this regard?"

Jon raised his eyebrows. "Yes, I suppose. What are you getting at?"

"Why have you put this decision on me?" He leaned on the table as well, holding his left hand over his right stump instead of folding his hands like he might've once. "You need no proof that I still support the Lannister army. I murdered my sister, this proof as the two stab wounds she left me, repeating the act I am so hated for. I rode directly into enemy territory instead of traveling far away to distant lands where I may be safe. I pledge myself to one of, if not your most loyal and trusted soldier here. So why do you expect me to pick up a sword and murder those who swore themselves to me and my family?"

Jon considered every word he said. His brooding face was at work. Slowly, a smile inched itself onto his face; nothing revealing actual happiness, but pleasure that Jaime came to this decision. "I don't expect you to do this, not at all. Just as you would not expect me to murder my soldiers on any given day. But this answer I expected. I know the Lannisters, though not as well as others. Give you two choices, and you will make a third that pleases you more." Jon looked to Brienne. "You were going to propose the second, weren't you? For him to join us?"

Brienne clenched her jaw. "It was not my decision to make."

"No, but that's what you would have preferred."

She nodded with slight hesitation. Jaime met her eyes and didn't think anything of it. "I would rather anything than see a good man be hanged." She said.

"We are in agreement on this." Jon smiled in finality now. He opened his mouth to say something.

"Some would argue he is not a good man." Sansa put in. Jon looked like he wanted to roll his eyes. "That his crimes are beyond forgiveness."

"I did what I had to. To survive." Jaime clearly didn't like Sansa, and didn't bother covering the disdain in his voice. "Just as you did."

"You pushed Bran from a window." She hissed. "You stabbed my father."

"Sansa, please." Jon stopped her before she could go farther. "I apologize, Ser Jaime. We have all done things we are not proud of. For now, you will stay here and rest. Let your wounds heal." He glanced at Sansa, but she was too busy brooding to notice. "Tread carefully in Winterfell. I know your reason for coming here, but my men want you dead. Do not give them more reason."

"Thank you, King Jon." Brienne stood and dragged Jaime up with her. "Good night."

"Wait." Jaime stopped her and stood on his own. "I have one more thing."

Everyone at the table seemed appalled except Jon. A little annoyed, but not riled up. "Yes?"

"The workload you have given Brienne is too much for one person to handle. I request at least one more instructor to join her with your soldiers."

Jon didn't have to mull this idea in his brain. "Okay. Starting in two days, you will join her in the yard from sunrise to sunset." Before Brienne could protest, he began again. "That is what you rode here hoping for, was it not? Good night."

"Thank you." Jaime nodded and turned to follow Brienne out of the hall. They walked in silence back to the room. It was quiet that night. And tense. Jaime would truly have to be dull not to see Brienne's clear upset at what he'd done, though he didn't understand her reasoning behind it.

They entered the room in silence, but as soon as the door was shut Brienne turned on him.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" She roared. "You're pressing your luck being here! Now you completely disregard everything King Jon offered you and sweet talk your way out of yet another situation! And the way you spoke to Lady Sansa! You do realize she has Lord Baelish watching over her, and you do realize he is one of the most dangerous men in the seven kingdoms? And when you asked for me without asking me if I could have more help? As if King Jon wasn't already risking his reputation by keeping you here! Are you absolutely insane? Now you have to stay out in the cold every day! Why do you keep trying to get out of everything?"

Jaime sat on the edge of the bed and took off his leather boots. "If there's one thing I'm good at, it's talking my way out of situations like this."

Brienne fell to her knees in front of him and grabbed his empty right sleeve, holding up the nub at his wrist. "This is what happened last time you tried to talk your way out of imprisonment!"

He tore his wrist out of her grasp and glowered. "That is what happened when I saved your life." He spat, his tone coated with fury. "Do not touch my wrist. Do not."

"You're really pushing your luck here, Jaime!" She stood as he pushed past her to start a fire. "You'll be lucky if you're not hanged!"

"Oh, don't put that on me!" The flames sparked and licked at the wood, climbing over ridges and blackening the fuel. The room began to warm. Jaime stood and walked back to where Brienne stood. "I came here for you, Brienne. I didn't come here to be surrounded by enemies."

"But you are surrounded by enemies." She pointed out.

"Not in this room, I hope." He managed a smile. "Please. I didn't think all of the possibilities through when I came here. I was bleeding out, I'd been stabbed by my sister. The only thing on my mind was you." His eyes went all cloudy with affection. "I thought I was dying. I just wanted to see you. I only wanted to see you."

Was the fire raging yet? The room felt too warm. Brienne didn't know what to say. Jaime didn't either. All he knew is that he really wanted to kiss her, so that's what he did. He brought her head down so he didn't have to stand on his toes and pressed his lips against hers. She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his back. It didn't last long. She pulled away first, leaning her forehead against his.

"I'm sorry for shouting." She whispered. "I'm really sorry." And he chuckled and kissed her again, this time less urgent and more sweet, and the only thing that stopped them was the exhaustion in their bones.

"We should probably sleep." Jaime muttered.

"I don't want to." Brienne shook her head.

"Yeah, but we should. It's- late." He protested against his own will. As Brienne pushed into him again, his side burned with sudden searing pain. "Mm. Wait." He pushed away and clutched his side. His breath hitched. "Fuck."

"What?" She put him at arms length and studied his face. "What is it?"

"My- fuck, my side." His breathing labored. He brought his hand away from the wound to find it soaked in blood. "Oh shit. Shit. Brienne, what's- what's happening?" He met her eyes with fear. He was terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only like half sorry for that ending only cause I had to write it so I feel the pain as well
> 
> Also I'm kinda sorry if Sansa comes off as extra annoying I try to be unbiased in writing like this but damn


End file.
